


Smile on Your Face Like Summer

by frek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Content and Happy Derek Hale, Derek's Headspace, Established Relationship, Feelings, Future Fic, Happy Warm Goodness, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3160160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles comes back from college for the last time, Derek can't have him to himself fast enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile on Your Face Like Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [secondstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondstar/gifts).



> This is written for a secret santa exchange for secondstar. 
> 
> I guess this could be considered a late Christmas gift. I hope more than anything that you enjoy this fic and that it brightens your day and makes you smile. I wish it could have been so much longer than it is, I have so many things I've imagined about Stiles and Derek's lives in this little world that I could regale you about if you want to listen later after reveals. Or maybe write little ficlets for in the future. In the mean time, I hope this is enough.
> 
> Thanks to Bubbles for reading this over. Any mistakes contained within are my own.

When they had gotten together, people had told them they knew that it was an inevitability. Derek had heard more than one sarcastic _finally_ from well meaning friends when the news spread through the pack. Stiles took everything in stride, Derek not so much. Even if it had been clear to everyone else, it hadn't been to him. He had spent a good number of years telling himself that Stiles didn't think of him as anything more than a friend. And even after he allowed for that possibility, he still told himself that Stiles didn't need someone like him messing up his life. It took another couple years of Stiles' constant reassurance and patience for Derek to finally admit that he had been wrong.

Derek still has his moments, after those long evenings where Stiles was more focused on his thesis than on him. Or those interminable weeks where Stiles was away, at school where he was surrounded by people and buildings and everything that he doesn't have back home where Derek was waiting for him. When Stiles comes back from college for the last time, Derek can't have him to himself fast enough. After family stopping by to welcome him home have left, Derek drags him through the house to their bedroom, stripping off the clothes that reek of Stiles' school, of people he doesn't know, of a life that he's not a part of.

Stiles' laughter fills the house as Derek gets him naked and on the bed, the happy sound just a small part of everything that Derek has missed in Stiles' absence. Derek smiles down at Stiles, reaching out to brush his fingertips over Stiles' pale skin, as if ensuring his memory hasn't been tainted, that the Stiles he'd been thinking of is the same as the one sprawled out beneath him just then. Stiles shivers at the touch and the small motion is enough to break Derek from his reverie and he's stripping down, tossing his clothes aside with a practiced efficiency before crawling into the bed overtop Stiles.

Derek leans in burying his face against Stiles' neck, breathing deep, trying to find the familiar scent beneath the others that linger on his skin. Stiles indulges Derek, tilting his head to the side to give him room as Derek runs his nose along the tendon, following with his tongue. Derek hums when he's done, the foreign scents fading just a little now. He continues moving over Stiles, breathing in Stiles' scent, brushing kisses over dips and moles before he's taking one of Stiles' hands and guiding it above his head. He can hear Stiles' heartbeat picking up now as he presses close, burying his nose in Stiles' armpit, finding his scent a little stronger. 

Something inside Derek settles with that, content and happy with the knowledge that Stiles is back, that he's still his. Derek keeps moving, trailing his lips down Stiles' side, smiling against his skin when he finds a ticklish spot and Stiles can't help but try to wiggle away. He holds him steady, though, as he moves past that spot, teeth dragging along the cut of muscle from his hip. Stiles' legs spread readily when Derek finds himself down between his thighs. But sex isn't on Derek's mind yet, not when he's still satisfying something a little more primal, needing to scent, to lick and taste and breathe Stiles' very essence in, to revel in it and commit it to memory.

It doesn't matter that Stiles will be here all the time now, doesn't have to go away again. They've been without each other and it's made an imprint on them, one that Derek needs to erase in every way he can, until the time apart is nothing more than a memory, the desperation and loneliness forgotten in favor of the knowledge that they're together and they won't be apart any time soon.

When Derek finally makes his way back up along Stiles' body, settling back overtop him, he rests his forearms on either side of his head, caging him in as he just stares down at Stiles, their faces so close that they're sharing breath. Derek has so much to say, so many things he could tell him, declarations and whispered promises. But he doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Stiles knows everything, he knows Derek better than anyone else ever has. It's knowledge that Stiles had to struggle for, more than the degree he'd just earned.

Derek's lips twitch into the smallest ghost of a smile before he takes a breath and closes the remaining distance, capturing Stiles' lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. At first it's just the drag of his lips along Stiles' until he's rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Stiles and strong arms wrapping around his middle. Stiles returns the kiss with trembling lips, fingers pressing into Derek's back as his lips part and Derek is met with the first brush of tongue against his own, sending a shiver along his spine.

The kiss is punctuated by a small little whimper from Stiles just before Derek gives in and presses for more, his tongue sweeping into his pliant mouth, tasting and savoring every second of the contact. Derek feels desperate, hungry for Stiles in a way that he isn't when they're together more often. It's the lack of contact, the distance the last few weeks, that drives their need, the fevered kisses, the desperate sounds building up.

By the time they break for air, foreheads resting together as their gazes meet, Derek's body is begging for more than just comfort and reassurance. He needs to be closer to Stiles, closer than they are now. Derek meets Stiles' gaze, his own questioning, asking for permission. The certainty in Stiles' eyes lets Derek know that he's free to touch and to give and to _take_. 

And he does it all. 

He touches Stiles with reverent fingers, trailing between moles long ago memorized and catalogued, over scars that bring up memories both good and bad. He touches with gentle lips over stubbled jaw and firm muscled flesh alike. He touches with a teasing tongue, lapping at pebbled nipples, dipping into his navel.

He gives Stiles every joy and pleasure he's able. He nips with blunt teeth at his tender skin, bringing blood to the surface of unbroken flesh, long fingers in his hair telling him that he's doing right. He wraps strong fingers around Stiles' length, stroking him in time with the desperate little motions of his hips, bringing him so close that he can hear it in the way Stiles' blood pounds in his veins. He licks and sucks, lips wrapped around Stiles' cock, tongue laving at the bitter, salty offering from his slit. He gives until Stiles is begging him to either stop or let him come. He gives until Stiles is begging him to just _take_.

He takes only what is offered. Except with Stiles, it's always everything. Stiles doesn't do anything halfway. When he gives himself to Derek, he gives him everything, begs him to take it. Derek has practiced restraint for so long that when Stiles had given him so much, it overwhelmed him. He's had years to learn that he can have it all, that with Stiles the only limits are the ones he sets for himself. When Stiles begs for him to take, Derek does, but only because he knows it's what Stiles wants. Because this isn't about him. It's about _them_. About what they are together, about their future, their potential.

So when Derek takes, he takes with slick fingers pressing deep inside him, stretching and opening him, brushing along the spot that makes his blood pound even harder. He takes with whispered words of promise, of love and affection that he'd never speak when he isn't so thoroughly devoted to this moment, the emotion it draws from him. He takes with deep kisses laced with those same promises and feeling, ones that bring tears burning at the back of his eyes that he dares not speak of. And finally, he takes with his own cock, burying inside Stiles, tying them together in a way they can't have otherwise. 

Derek takes and he gives. He pushes inside Stiles, his own body already seeking the release that it knows is in store, while his hand slips over Stiles' length, drawing out his arousal, making it as good for Stiles as it is for him. Derek listens to the gasps and moans, the desperate noises filling the room between them, the slick sounds of their bodies as they move together in a way that Derek swears they were born to do. Nobody could fit as perfectly with him as Stiles does. They complement each other, complete each other, rough edges somehow slotting together like the teeth of a gear. When they're together, they just work.

And this isn't as apparent to Derek as it is in the moments before their combined efforts bring them their release. He can feel Stiles beneath him, his body moving in time with his own, muscles bearing down as his cock twitches in Derek's hand, spending his release across his stomach. Just the sight is enough, the knowledge that he has given Stiles this. It drags Derek along to completion, his hips snapping against Stiles one last time as he comes, losing himself to the incredible euphoria of the moment, of Stiles tight around him, his heartbeat pounding in Derek's ears, a fast rhythm to match his own. It feels like the very sun is shining its blessing down on them, hot and steady on his skin as he collapses against Stiles. He presses small kisses along his damp skin, his shoulder, his neck, until he finds his mouth and is kissing him in earnest, the movement of his lips against Stiles' just as good as any words in conveying his feelings.

Derek doesn't know how long they stay like that, wrapped up together, kissing and touching, coming down from such a glorious high. Eventually he moves, slides out of Stiles, cleans up himself, cleans Stiles, cares for him in a way he couldn't while he was away. He draws out each brush of the soft cloth on Stiles' stomach, over his length, enjoying the way Stiles smiles and tries to stifle a laugh when the touch tickles his sensitive skin. Stiles' cheeks are pink with exertion, the color bright on his pale skin, it makes him appear happier, and a gentle sniff proves to Derek's nose that he is. Derek is too. Happy to have Stiles home, happy to make him feel so good.

He wraps Stiles up in his arms again when he crawls back into the bed, dragging a sheet over them. It's a warm summer evening outside the house, Derek can hear the crickets as they sing their song, searching for their mates. Derek smiles to himself as he hears Stiles' breathing start to slow and even out. He doesn't have to search, doesn't have to sing and howl to find someone. He's already found him and there isn't anything that can take him away from Derek. Not after all he's gone through to have Stiles, to be this content. He has plans for their future, even if they're only as far as the next day.

In the morning Derek will wake up with the sun. He'll press a kiss to Stiles' forehead before crawling out of bed. He'll throw on sweatpants and head down to the kitchen of the old farmhouse they live in. He'll open the windows and invite in the world, listening to the birds' songs as he makes Stiles his favorite breakfast. He'll set it out on the old table they found together, one as old as the house itself with a long history of families and love. Then he'll wake Stiles and lead him down to the table, where they'll start the first day of the rest of their lives together. In the bright, lived in kitchen with its big enameled sink and even bigger windows looking out on the yard and forest beyond. Surrounded by all the life and promise of a perfect summer morning and the knowledge that they're there together to share it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me [@frek](http://frek.tumblr.com) on tumblr. ♥


End file.
